


Ginzo Mary

by thirsyduck



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Gambling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirsyduck/pseuds/thirsyduck
Summary: Instead of immediately going back to Duckburg, Fenton stays in Tokyolk for the night and has an intimate encounter with a certain loose half-goose who's out to gander.
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gladstone Gander
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Gladstone stepped into the bar and took his time to gander at the happenings inside. What little there were, that was. Dark lighting with a few purple neons accenting the walls. Round, fancy black tables clear of guests save for the occasional odd. Even the dance floor at the far end of the bar was empty, the smooth electro-jazz playing to a nonexistent audience. Overall, Gladstone was not impressed. But then there wasn’t a lot in the world that impressed the half-goose.

The only problem was that the lack of occupancy left him slim pickings for a partner.

Yup, that’s right. Gladstone Gander was on the prowl tonight, though prowl may be a tad too strong a word to use. Prowling implied some level of effort that exceeds _walk into a room and wait._ And Gladstone could proudly say he had never worked a day in his life.

The emptiness of the bar didn’t concern him anyway, but hey, what did? Besides, it was to be expected, he supposed. A Sunday night, late, and right after a major catastrophe? Most people were held up at home kissing their loved ones and making tonight a _family_ night. And the ones that didn’t have a family? The kind who could afford a snazzy place like this? Well, they had jobs to wake up bright and early for. They had responsibilities that took prioritization over fun and relaxation said responsibilities afforded them. Hard working people, these Tokyolk folk.

The poor things.

Gladstone wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it smacked him in the face, but maybe that’s because the only things that ever smacked him in the face were winning lotteries, raffles, or free tickets… and the occasional angry cousin. Sometimes all four at once. That lucky fortune was the reason he doesn’t carry cash, and even now, as he stepped into one of the most expensive bars in town, there wasn’t a dime in his pocket. Gladstone knew he would be walking out belly full and with one arm wrapped around whatever pretty little thing was lucky enough to catch his eye without spending the dime he didn’t have.

Speaking of catching his eyes, what did he have here? He smiled and rolled his shoulders at the first bit of interest he’d seen all night. A beautiful white crane with long black hair, standing behind the bar counter and shouting at a very flustered looking tan duck.

Even though it was to be expected, Gladstone still chuckled at his luck. So, which would it be tonight? The bartender or her cute, fretting patron. Or both? Gladstone had been called a lot of things over the course of his life, but selfish was never one of them. He had plenty of luck to go around and last he checked; two arms. That’s one for both of the lovely little birds lady luck has flown his way.

Then the bartender waves her hands high in the air and Gladstone sees a silver ring flash on a finger that has him tilting his head back with a frown. So, the crane was off the table, then. A married woman was one of the few lines he won’t cross… again. Anytime soon, at least. He’d been trying to clean up his act as of late, and taking someone else’s woman to bed was quite the dirty thing to do.

Which he didn’t mind, Gladstone can get down and dirty. And if it’s for a good time, he can get _very_ dirty. But his family had been on this moral, kid-friendly kick for a while now and he thought at least _trying_ to play along might finally get him invited to—

No, none of that. He’s all the way in another country and doing well for himself, as usual. No reason to go getting worked up over some ungrateful cousin who—

He lifted his head and took a quick, calming breath. Anger issues may run in the family, but Gladstone was never a runner, or really any type of athlete. Bad for the complexion, and don’t even get him _started_ on what high blood pressure could do to the sheen on a duck’s feathers. Stress and anger had never gotten him anything in life, so why start now?

He wouldn’t, simple as that.

Gladstone pat his already perfect hair down, shook his shoulders, puffed up his chest feathers, and licked a thumb to slide it across one of his meticulously plucked brows. And then he sauntered on over to the bar where his next good time was currently being yelled at by a very angry looking bartender. She was shaking her fist at duck and looking seconds away from strangling him. Which wouldn’t be any good for Gladstone; he was a duck who lived with few restrictions on himself, but even he drew the line at corpses... at least the ones that hadn’t been reanimated, anyway.

What? He takes one trip to Egypt, accidentally breaks some thousand-year-old curse in a newly refurbished royal palace, and suddenly there’s a de-mummified princess crawling out of her tomb and throwing herself at him. What was a duck to do?

“We-hell, what seems to be the problem?” Gladstone cut through their argument like diamond through glass. Hard and forceful, but with the two pairs of eyes now staring at him, one wide-eyed and the other in suspicion, having not real effect on himself. His beak spread into his most winning smile, he waited for them both to collect themselves. Meeting the most handsome duck in the world wasn’t an everyday occurrence, after all.

The two turned to him and it took them a minute to stop talking over each other for Gladstone to finally understand the issue. The little duck had come to the bar and realized after ordering a drink and bringing out his wallet to show his ID, that he didn’t have any money. Apparently, some big night, he had been pleading with the bartender to please serve him, that he would be good for it tomorrow, he promised. And the bartender, likely used to hearing such pleas, had only gotten angrier the more the duck had all but begged for free food. Not an unusual situation, really, and a simple one to understand and put into a context that applied directly to him.

His next free prize was short on cash.

“Is that all?” Gladstone intoned with one brow raised. No money, no problem. He turned back to the bartender, smile ever present as he said, “I don’t see why we can’t work this little—”

As he was speaking, he moved to lean on the bar’s counter, just as the crane let out a painfully high-pitched scream.

“Ahhh!”

_Crunch._

Gladstone looked down to see the guts of something underneath the heel of his palm. It was big, goopy, and getting all over his feathers. Euch, he stuck out his tongue and lifted his hand to shake off the disgusting mess that was clearly the remains of some squashed bug. What kind of high-end establishment had bugs? Oh-ho, they had better hope he—

“You… you saved my life.” The crane said in a hushed, awe filled tone.

He what now? Gladstone’s brows were furrowed in annoyance, but remembering his present company, he quickly replaced the confused expression with another smile. The self-assured kind that said he knew exactly what he had done and it was one hundred percent intentional. Saved a life? Of course he did, what else would he be doing with his time? Certainly not trying to take some blushing duck back to the nearest hotel that would give them a free room.

Before Gladstone could answer with his usual wit and charm, a loud voice from the kitchen was shouting, “Nani ga okotte iru no?!”

Then an older looking crane burst out from the kitchen door, wringing his hands on his apron and a knife in hand. Gladstone chuckled and guessed from the look of the older man that he was the bartender’s father and the bar’s chef. How convenient.

The bartender turned to the cook and the two of them started talking rapidly in Japanese. Gladstone couldn’t follow a lick of it. He’d never bothered with learning the language, or any language other than the one he spoke. Like all forms of mental drudgery, it wasn’t necessary for getting around or getting what he wanted.

And right now, what he wanted was the cute duck staring up at him with his bill half open, rapidly turning his head between the talking employees and half-goose. Gladstone met the duck’s eyes during one of those quick shifts and his smile tilted into something sharper. A slight smirk that had the man blushing and turning to look down at the table, no longer able to look Gladstone in the eye.

The shy type, huh? He could wo… he could wo… wo— nope, even in his own head Gladstone couldn’t say that cursed word. He could _roll_ with the duck being a shy guy, it just meant he’d have to lay the charm on thick. And as the two crane’s chattering quieted down, he knew he’d be getting his chance soon.

The bartender bowed to him and Gladstone raised a brow, already knowing where this was going; something-something free food, but he curious to hear what she had to say nonetheless.

“As thanks for saving my life, my father would like to serve you anything you like, free of charge.” She lifted her head after speaking and Gladstone offered her the same smirk he’d given the duck before slapping his clean hand on the guy’s shoulder hard enough to make him jolt.

“Wait, wh—” Gladstone silenced him with a slight squeeze to his shoulder and a glance downward so fast he wasn’t sure the guy would catch it.

“I appreciate it, really I do— _But_ , it should really be for me and my _best friend_ here. See, I only came out to meet him and if he hadn’t suggested this _gorgeous_ establishment, I never would have been here to save your life.”

He rakishly looked her body up and down, “And might I say, what a life worth saving it is.”

She flushed and looked down at her hands, fiddled with her ring. Probably thought about just how much that silver was worth before answering, “Y-yes, of course, both of you; free all night.” She then rushed back into the kitchen, likely to tell her father the slight change of plans and to collect herself. Which was fine, Gladstone had that affect on people, it was even worse when he was _trying_ , which he had been just then. Some women, men, had to change their pants after a single wink in their direction.

Not that he felt bad for doing it.

He released his hold on the unknown duck’s shoulder and took a seat at the bar beside him. The bartender being gone would give him time to find out just what kind of duck would be going out with him tonight. Gladstone wasn’t picky with anything other than looks, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t prefer them feisty. Though, from the way the guy was looking at him, beak wide and eyes sparkling like he’d just seen something incredible, Gladstone didn’t think he’d be getting any plucky fun out of him tonight.

He could appreciate the look of admiration, though, and letting the duck show just how _appreciative_ he was of Gladstone’s intervention sounded just like the good time he was after.

But they’d be going nowhere if things stayed silent between them, so as he was ought to do, Gladstone held out a hand in front of the stranger to introduce himself. However, before he could get a word out, apparently a dam broke inside the stranger and suddenly, he was swiveling on his barstool to face Gladstone directly, the admiringlook replaced with one of excitement.

“That was amazing!” he exclaimed. “How did you know she was allergic to spiders? And to just smash like that, no hesitation! Wow!”

The bartender had been allergic to spiders?

“Oh, well…” The barrage of questions caught him off guard, but he quickly blinked back his surprise and placed his held-out hand on the counter, smile back in place as he only just crossed the line that separated his and the other duck’s personal space. “… You could call it a lucky guess.”

The stranger looked on the verge of asking more questions, but then shook his head, his tall stand of tan hair swaying with every head turn.

“Oh, where are my manners.” Then a hand was being held out to him and Gladstone took it without thinking, unused to someone beating him to a handshake. It was one of his signature moves.

“Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, it’s nice to meet you!” the man introduced himself with an enthusiastic shake that had Gladstone’s shoulders shaking from the force of it. Hm, full name? Alright.

Gladstone returned the shake, placing his free hand over their joined ones to both stop the vigorous shakes, and in a shameless declaration of his intent. “Gladstone Gander, it’s a pleasure,” he purred.

“I-um, oh, ah… yeah!” Fenton responded sheepishly and even through light brown feathers, Gladstone could see the duck’s blush. So, he was at the very least affected by Gladstone’s flirtations, next to find out is if he’s receptive.

He released the other’s hand and strategically retreated back to his own side of the shared space, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be staying there for long.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but what brings a cute duck like you to a place like this?” If the hand holding hadn’t been obvious enough, Gladstone made sure Fenton knew what conversation they were having. The shy, happy types tended miss everything except the most direct passes and while none of Gladstone’s time was wasted time, he would prefer skipping over the whole; _oh, interested in me, that way?_ that guys like Fenton were always so slow to pick up on.

Flirting was so much more fun when the other person flirted back, or was at least aware they were being hit on.

“C-cute?” Fenton squeaked, and Gladstone’s smile turned into a lazy grin. That wasn’t a _disgusting-get-away-from-me_ squeak, but an _oh-a-hot-guy-just-complimented-me_ squeak.

“It’s for work, I mean-uh, not the bar, being here. In Tokyolk. I’m celebrating.” Fenton ducked in on himself and Gladstone could feel the embarrassment radiating off the man.

“Well, Fentoni—can I call you Fentoni? It’s your lucky night. You’re talking to _the_ Gladstone Gander, luckiest duck in the world and all-around expert at having a good time; celebrations included.” He tugged at the edges of his jacket as he spoke, head held high in pride.

“Luckiest duck in the world? Is that like… a job?” Fenton asked through his embarrassment.

Gladstone’s expression never changed as he winked, “Full time, baby.”

The duck looked ready to combust on the spot, but he still continued with questions. “Well, what makes you so lucky?” Fenton asked, cheeks flushed, but looking like he was about to whip out a pen and paper and start taking notes. Really gave credence to the whole nerd vibe Gladstone was picking up off him. Not that Gladstone had anything against nerds, one of his best cousins was a nerd.

“I met you here, didn’t I?” Gladstone said, laying the charm on thick. Though, the way Fenton gulped and fidgeted with his purple tie, suddenly able to look everywhere but at Gladstone, gave him reason to pause.

Because Gladstone may be an insatiable, sometimes even unintentional, flirt, but even he wouldn’t keep up his advances on someone who was uncomfortable with them. Anymore. Not for a while. He was _trying,_ alright?

“Hey, you want me to slow my roll, you just let me know. Ol’ Gladdie here wouldn’t want to put you on the spot.” Well, he _would_ , a very specific horizontal spot, preferably on a bespoke mattress with silk sheets. But that was neither here not there.

“No, no, it’s not that, really I… I’m flattered, it’s just I’m not really used to…” Fenton shook his head then flapped his arms, gesturing between the both of them. “… _This_.”

Yeah, that made sense. Most nerds could only ever dream of the hottest person in any given room coming on to them. And while Gladstone couldn’t understand Fenton’s flustered state, he could sympathize. He could slow down just enough so that the guy didn’t have a heart attack.

“Well, I—” Gladstone started, only to stop when the kitchen door opened and out popped their bartender, cheeks no less red than before and her hair looking like she’d just stepped out of a wind storm. And Gladstone wanted to _guess_ what she had been up to. But not in present company.

“I, ahem, am ready to take your orders now.” She said, bringing up a hand to cough into. And Gladstone swore he saw something wet shine on her white feathers. Must be because she just washed her hands. Heh, yeah, right.

It was Fenton who spoke up first, Gladstone enjoying his own thoughts too much to interrupt them just yet.

“I’d like a Tokyolk Iced Tea, please and the spicy edamame, if… if that’s alright.”

_Tokyolk Iced Tea?_

“Woah, there Fentoni, you said you’re not used to this,” Gladstone gestured between the two of them. “That include drinking? Because a Tokyolk Iced Tea is a bit, uh… strong, for a first timer.”

Gladstone wouldn’t be taking the duck anywhere if he got plastered, on account of his whole _be better_ attempt and because drunk people were such a hassle. With the rare exception, taking care of them was akin to wo… akin to wo… akin to… a waste of his time, and Gladstone Gander’s time was never wasted.

“Oh, really?” Fenton asked with worried brows. “It just sounded so local I wanted to try it…” Then turning to Gladstone, his expression chipper again, Fenton asked, “What do you suggest?”

Seeing an opportunity, Gladstone grinned at his new pal. “That depends on you, Fentoroni; you like it sweet, with a bit of a kick, some spice, or are you just looking for something to smooth your night over?”

His voice was dripping with salacious intent, enough so that the bartender looked like she might need to excuse herself again.

“I, uh…” Fenton gulped. “… S-spicy.”

Good to know.

“Hon, he’ll have the Ginza Mary, and I’ll take a Whisky Highball with some of those _delicious_ crab cakes I’ve heard so much about.” Gladstone ordered for the both of them, and then just to test his luck, he placed a hand on Fenton’s shoulder.

This time just to feel, he didn’t care if the guy spoke up, Gladstone just wanted to test his luck. Redundant as the expression was when applied to him. He noted, unlike the first time they’d touched, that he could feel some muscle underneath those thin shoulders. It wasn’t super tight, but more than Gladstone would have typically expected from a nerd. It was a nice little surprise and had him thinking that maybe Fenton could actually handle the half-goose’s green colored spice.

The bartender nodded then poked her head through the kitchen door to shout their order at the chef, then got started on their drinks.

“So, what’s the celebration for, if you don’t mind me asking?” Gladstone prodded with a mild sort of curiosity. What could pull a nerd out to a bar, alone, on a Sunday night? Getting their patent accepted, discovering of a new species of krill, finally losing the V-card; the possibilities were endless.

“The most important day of my career driven life!” Fenton said as he clenched his fist and tucked his elbow into his side, as though gripping something.

“Big promotion?” he asked, his bill resting on knuckles as he watched the guy animatedly wave his arms about.

“Better, I was hired!” Fenton bounced in his chair and Gladstone couldn’t help but be reminded of his cousin Feathery whenever he was talking about sea life. Definite nerd.

“Yeah? Good for you, pal.” Gladstone responded, trying not to sound too sardonic. Because it wasn’t true. A career driven life was a pitiable one. But Gladstone could go along with the other’s elation if it increased his already astronomical chances of getting laid tonight.

“Thank you,” Fenton dipped his head pridefully just as the waitress sat both their respective drinks down and then disappeared back into the kitchen, likely to grab both of their orders.

Gladstone licked his upper bill, almost feeling peckish.

“Well, you know what this calls for… what’s that word the Japanese always use whenever they’re about to have a toast?” He asked, taking a hold of his tall, lemon wedged glass.

“Kanpai?” Fenton tilted his head at him, looking confused yet hopeful.

“That’s it,” Gladstone nodded and rose his glass, giving it a tiny shake. “Kanpai?”

Fenton’s eyes lit up and his fluffed cheek smile was something Gladstone could get used to.

“Kanpai!” the other duck shouted and they clinked their glasses together in celebration of Fenton’s new full-time employee status.

They drank their respective drinks, Gladstone offering his for Fenton to try and enjoying bringing the glass to the other duck’s beak to sip when he said yes. Their food came out not long after and their conversation slowed as they ate. Again, Gladstone offered his to try and smirked at the shy nod he got as he held out a crab cake for Fenton to take. Heat blossomed in his chest when instead of grabbing it, Fenton leaned forward to take a bite directly from Gladstone’s hand. The other’s thin, wet tongue taking a quick swipe at the tip of Gladstone’s fingers as he pulled away.

Well, well, spicy was it?

“So… you got plans for the rest of the night?” Gladstone asked as he used a cloth napkin and the condensation on the outside of his glass to clean his hands. Then he placed one of his freshly cleaned hands on Fenton’s thigh. He didn’t move it, didn’t slide his hand along its thin, orange length as he was want to do. He just waited to see if he would be pushed away, or if they were really doing this thing.

The only response he got was a slight stiffen and then an immediate, forced relaxation from the other duck. It was an endearing in that, _aw-look at how hard the nerd is trying to appear cool_ , kind of way.

“Oh, no, well I can’t be out too late, but…” Fenton trailed off and Gladstone graciously waited for the nervous bird to finish his thought.

“… It would have been nice to bring back something for M’Ma.” Fenton said, totally off topic and once again appearing to lament his penniless status. Which Gladstone accepted with a nod of his head, he knew what a jumbled mess most nerds’ minds were, barely able to stay on one topic before a new idea was leaping out at them. And while Gladstone was eager to take the other duck back to the nearest free bedroom offered, he couldn’t deny that the other’s company was… pleasant. In that anything was better than being alone, kind of way.

So, seeing that more than an hour had ticked away since first entering the bar, Gladstone decided it was finally time to shoot his shot, confident that lady luck wouldn’t let him miss.

“You know, if money is something you need…” Eyes half-lidded, Gladstone leaned forward, the hand resting on Fenton’s thigh sliding up enough that the edge was pressing against soft feathers and he rubbed slow circles around where those feathers and thin orange leg connected. “… I know a place where we can both be lucky tonight.”

There it was, a blatant invitation that could break through even the densest of nerds.

“I, uh… Um, that is… C-could you excuse me for a minute? Just gotta go to the, you know… real quick.” Fenton pointed both his thumbs back toward the restroom and Gladstone shrugged in lieu of a verbal response. What, did Fenton think Gladstone was going to tell him no? That was a level of kink the half-goose wasn’t ready to explore… Again. Anytime soon.

He tapped his fingers against the counter as he waited for Fenton, he winked at the bartender just to see her blush as she cleared their plates and drinks, and he sighed after nearly five minutes passed and still no sign of Fenton. What, had the guy fallen in, was one drink enough to make him toss his dinner, or was he just trying to prolong the little _will he or won’t he_ act the duck had going on?

Which was fine, it was a cute act, but that’s all it was. If Fenton was going to reject him, then lady luck never would have sent him into that bar to intervene on the duck’s behalf. Though, if by some random bout of bad chance, Fenton _did_ reject Gladstone; he wouldn’t have to wait long before lady luck was tossing a rebound his way. Kind of took the thrill out of every encounter…

Ah, who needed thrills when they had luck? 

After the five-minute mark had officially passed, Gladstone decided he would go check on the guy. If the single drink had made him up his edamame, then the least Gladstone could do was pat his back. The tan duck had entertained him for well over an hour, which made him at least worth that small kindness.

He got up and walked into the bathroom, the door swinging silently open and closing just as quietly behind him. What he saw immediately upon entering stopped him in his tracks, though.

Fenton, pointing at his reflection in the mirror and talking to himself in a heated tone.

“You’ve _earned_ this, Fenton. All those years of hard work; you can have just one night of fun with no responsibilities and no fear of repercussions to get in the way. Tomorrow starts your new life as Doctor Crackshell-Crabrera and tonight is the _last_ night to enjoy yourself as the way less serious intern Crabrera.”

A doctor was it, hm?

Well, well, lady luck really only brought him the best. And he’d been dead on about the whole nerd thing That still didn’t explain the muscles underneath those soft tan feathers, though. But, hey, maybe the guy worked out. It was then that Gladstone noticed the bathroom sink was running and he saw the water dripping off of Fenton’s face. Had he tried to sober up? Make sure it was him making the decision to say yes and not the little alcohol he’d had?

Cute. More than ever, Gladstone was looking forward to ruining such a sweet little duck.

Hearing all he needed to, Gladstone left the bathroom as silently as he’d entered, but he didn’t go back to the bar counter. There was nothing for them there and he wanted to get them both out of the joint and to the hot little spot Gladstone had brought up earlier. A place where they could both be lucky? Of course, he was talking about a casino. The biggest one in town. Gladstone hadn’t been yet, for account of… reasons, but he figured stepping in with a cute duck under his arm, hot and ready for a good time, would make the experience more bearable.

A sailor could only stay away from homeport for so long, or so his cousin Donald would say.

Donald. Thinking of his cousin reminded Gladstone of the harsh words that were repeatedly directed at him whenever they would meet, and he clicked his tongue, brows furrowed in irritation. His cousin was wrong about him, as always.

Gladstone wasn’t easy, the world was.

The bathroom door swung open and Gladstone quickly wiped clear any signs of annoyance with a smile that showed off just how brightly his teeth sparkled. He then wasted no time in wrapping an arm around the smaller duck’s shoulder, pulling him close to his side.

The duck quacked, not expecting Gladstone to be right outside the bathroom, but otherwise didn’t make any move to push the half-goose away. Not that Gladstone had thought he would. The cat was in the sack, so to speak.

“You ready to get out of here, or…” he trailed off, giving Fenton an opportunity to turn him down that Gladstone knew he wouldn’t take.

“Y-yeah,” Fenton nodded, a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m ready.”

That’s the spirit. A little spice, a little spunk, maybe Fenton really was just what Gladstone was looking for tonight.

“C’mon then, walk with me, talk with me,” Gladstone said as he led the duck out of the bar and out onto the sidewalk.

And they did. Fenton talked about how long he had been an intern at a science lab, though he wouldn’t specify which. Gladstone spoke of how he had come to be in Tokyolk, how his cousin’s giant crustacean had been attacked by Japanese fishers, resulting in his blimp being popped. And as way of apology, he and his cousin had been offered free meals for life as well as free rooms at any of the fishing company’s many sea themed resorts. That they for some reason had. Arriving at one of those resorts, right along the Japanese coastline, was where he and his cousin had parted ways.

The conversation carried them all the way to the casino Gladstone had been thinking about visiting ever since coming to Tokyolk. He’d been avoiding it for weeks, but Fenton’s need of cash gave him a convenient reason to push past his own trepidation and finally take the plunge inside.

It was a tall building before them. With black glass and gaudy, blinking signs that spelled out something in Japanese that Gladstone couldn’t understand and didn’t care to. It could have said Gladstone’s Play Palace and he still wouldn’t have bothered to take out his phone and put forth the effort.

“Are we really going in there?” Fenton asked incredulously, and Gladstone wondered if going into a den of sin was yet another one of the first times he would be taking from the duck.

He chuckled, “Yeah, consider it exposure therapy.” Gladstone said it while thinking of his own trepidation toward the casino and how he’d avoided the establishments like he avoided physical labor ever since—

And he should not have done that.

Fenton was looking at him in confusion, and the blacks of Gladstone’s eyes shrunk, his smile taking on that forced quality that made his cheeks hurt. He laughed and shook Fenton’s shoulder. “I mean, you wanted to celebrate tonight, right? So why not go all out?”

The other bird looked up and down Gladstone’s strained face, and he swore the guy gave him a disbelieving brow raise. It could almost be described as skeptic, but there’s no way a little nerd was looking at Gladstone Gander that way. And he was right, when all Fenton did was shrug and smile.

“You’re right. I want to bring something home for M’Ma and maybe this place will help me do just that,” Fenton said with a gentle pat to his own chest. Gladstone just nodded and turned his head away from the other duck as he let out a long, relieved exhale. He shook his head and adopted his trademark cashmere grin as he led them inside the city’s largest and most well-known casino.

Which did not disappoint. The red and gold patterned carpet, the off-white walls looking yellow underneath the gaudy fluorescent lights, the smell of cigar smoke and broken dreams wafting through the air. Oh yeah, this was his kind of place, full of his kind of people, and there were a lot of his people.

Because even on a late Sunday night, right after a major city catastrophe, the gamblers were out in full force. Every pachinko and slot machine had a patron in front of it, and all of the card tables looked to be full. Maybe they thought having survived a robot attack meant it was their lucky night.

Underneath his arm he could feel slight shakes coming from the other duck, like he was scared, tense, nervous all at the same time. Maybe the biggest casino in the country was too much all at once for a sweet, little guy like Fenton. But then the same could be said about Gladstone Gander. They had already come so far; he wasn’t about to let the nerd’s first time jitters get in the way of _their_ celebratory good time.

He pulled the other duck even closer, their heads pressing together as he used his own body to lessen those shakes. “You see all this, Fentarolli,” he held an open palmed out in front of them, gesturing to the crowd of unlucky gamblers before them. “This is a sea of opportunity. You’re the captain, and I, your sturdy ship, will go wherever you steer. Just point the way and we’ll be on course to a winning streak.”

Everyone else in the gambling house had just run out of whatever luck they thought they had, because short of Fenton pointing them to a single user machine, a table was about to be cleared out. The chips always fell in his favor, and as he felt the tension in Fenton’s shoulders ease up, he couldn’t help the narcissistic grin that spread across his beak. He felt he was owed it. Who else could get such a cute, pure nerd to follow a compete stranger into the city’s biggest den of debauchery?

Fenton swallowed and nodded, then with a shaky finger pointed toward one of the few tables within an open seat eyesight. Gladstone had to squint to make out what it was, but it didn’t take him long to recognize the game they were playing. One of his favorites.

Craps.

The dice game always drew a crowd, gave Gladstone an opportunity to show off, and more often than not ended with the casino’s owner coming out and offering him a free night’s stay just so he would _stop._ And even if that didn’t happen tonight, Gladstone was certain they’d win enough to afford a night in one of the casino’s top suites with plenty of money to spare. All of which he’d leave to Fenton to spend on his M’Ma.

How generous of him.

“Craps! Great choice, Captain Fentasmo.” Gladstone shook the duck’s shoulder and finally let him go. “Why don’t you grab us a seat at the table, and I’ll go get some chips.” 

“S-sure thing, I can do that… of course.” Fenton poked his bottom bill with a single finger as he regarded the craps table apprehensively. It was cute, but Gladstone still rolled his eyes and twisted his lips in exasperation. What would it take for the guy to lose that adorable, yet frustratingly anxious attitude?

Huffing hot air through his nostrils, Gladstone decided it was a problem that would fix itself without any intervention on his part. They always did.

He walked away just as he heard Fenton mutter under his breath, “…what’s craps?”

Gladstone approached the receptionist, a lovely looking tanuki, his smile slick as the oil that slid off a duck’s feathers as he placed a hand on the counter.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked, eyes roving over his green clad body, and Gladstone took a second to preen underneath her clearly admiring gaze.

“Yeah, I’d like to get some chips.” He pointed a finger gun in her direction and added, “Casino credit.”

“Oh, um, alright how much—”

“Ten million yen,” he said without hesitation.

“Ten… Ten million, sir. Are you sure you can… The casino charges a _very_ high interest and if you’re not good for—” Once again, Gladstone cut her off.

“Do you see this blazer? Loonie Volture, right here—You _know_ I’m good for it.” Gladstone flicked his collar up and gifted the receptionist with his most debonair smile.

She bit her bottom lip and looked around, probably to see if they were being watched. And hey, it’s a casino, of course they were. But she gave him a curt, short nod and soon Gladstone was walking away with more chips than he could carry. Literally, he had to get a bag to fit them all in.

As he approached the craps table, he could see Fenton hadn’t integrated himself smoothly. There was an oppressive atmosphere around the table, one that was making his new pal sink in on himself, his feathers simultaneously ruffling in poorly concealed indignation.

“Now see here, you—” Fenton was cut off by the high-pitched cackle of a male fox.

“Aw, is the wittle ducky lost? Why don’t you head on over to the slot machines; or better yet, the kiddie room!” A chorus of laughter erupted around the table as they mocked its single duck occupant. And seeing the way they ridiculed Fenton sent a flash of anger through him. Who were they, compared to the scientist, the _doctor_ sitting at their table? More than that, he was Gladstone Gander’s chosen partner for the night, which even without the former titles made him leagues above any of them.

He took a deep breath to both cool that anger and exhale it out of him.

Then, without introducing himself, Gladstone stepped forward and dropped the bag of chips on the table in front of where Fenton sat, more than a few of them spilling onto the table. He then leaned over the man’s shoulder, his hair brushing up against the underside of the other ducks’ bill. He pressed his hands to Fenton’s sides and slowly slipped them underneath his arms, resting them right over where the duck’s shirt ended and his tan bottom feathers were revealed.

The laughter immediately died and their repugnant gazes went from the out of place duck seated at the table, to the one who had just so salaciously draped himself over the new player. It was obvious they were struggling to put two and two together. Fenton’s cheap button up blouse and dollar-store tie didn’t exactly complement the half-goose who accompanied him. They saw the sheen of his feathers, his perfect complexion, and expensive clothes. They wondered why he was here with Fenton and not one of _them._

Well, they could look and they could envy the bird he was with, as Gladstone knew they would. Their resentful stares toward Fenton wouldn’t do anything but boost his own appropriately inflated ego, and by the look of it, the doctor’s as well. He could tell by the way the man’s shoulders squared and he finally relaxed into his chair, sitting up a little higher as he did so. The duck leaned back into Gladstone’s hands and allowing them to sit more firmly against his body.

“There a problem here, Cap?” he asked, his head down so his words breathed against Fenton’s neck, but his eyes turned high so he could watch the crowd of foxes, bears, and wolves sneer at them. All predators, huh? Well, it may sound very McDuck of him, but Gladstone was going to have to show them all that a duck was not to be trifled with.

His attention was taken off the crowd when he felt the man underneath him shiver, and he wondered how much longer it would be before he got to bring more of those out of him. But, outside of the shiver, if Fenton was affected by Gladstone’s proximity, he didn’t show it.

“No, no problem at all,” Fenton said, his tone resolute and eyes hard set on the rest of the table.

Gladstone chuckled deep in the back of his throat, and was rewarded by another one of those delicious full body shivers. There was that spice Fenton had mentioned, that little bit of feisty Gladstone had been after.

“Then place your bet,” he murmured directly against the duck’s tan neck. Then remembering what Fenton had said earlier, he spelled out the word _pass_ on the other’s blouse by pressing into it with a finger. He watched as a thin orange leg jerked in response to his touch and smirked. What? Gladstone was just helping the guy out; he didn’t know how to play.

“P-pass,” Fenton said through clenched teeth, like he was struggling to speak without letting a different kind of noise out. Poor thing, Gladstone almost felt bad. Almost.

“And what will you be betting?” the dealer asked, interrupting his fun with Fenton.

Then, for what felt like the fifth time that night alone, Fenton surprised him.

“The _entire_ bag,” Fenton said it with enough bravado that even Gladstone felt like swooning. Confidence was a good look on the duck.

He clutched at the blouse under his hands when the crowd once again erupted in laughter, at Fenton’s declaration. Gladstone’s chutzpah apparently only able to silence them for so long. The dealer even joined in, but it didn’t bother Gladstone, after years of having fingers pointed his way, either in anger, ridicule, or jealousy; it never did anymore.

Fenton was done allowing their mockery to get to him too, it seemed. As the duck merely accepted the pair of dice handed to him from the dealer and then held them up high. Gladstone’s eyes followed the dice and it took a second longer than it should have for him to understand what was going on.

“Didn’t you say you’re the luckiest duck in the world?” Fenton questioned him like it was a challenge, and Gladstone rose up off the other duck to meet it. Sliding his hands up the duck’s chest to rest them firmly on slender shoulders as he did. They locked eyes, matching smirks on both their faces.

They were _both_ going to show the table why it was unwise to mess with ducks.

“That I am,” Gladstone answered before leaning forward, eyes slanted as he blew on the dice, the feathers holding them ruffling under the light breeze.

And they were rolling.


	2. Chapter 2

Gladstone laughed as he watched Fenton struggle to hold both a huge pile of chips in his arms and their chip bag that was hooked around an elbow. It was more winnings than either of them could carry or needed, but it had felt good cleaning every single person at the table of all their previous wins. Eventually the dealer had just announced his table closed and soon after, all the craps tables had been closed. And while had been tempting to go around the rest of the casino, taking it for all that it’s worth—

Gladstone was a little more impatient to get a hotel suite than he would ever admit aloud.

“Why don’t you get those chips cashed while I see about getting us a room?” Gladstone said, hooking a thumb behind him toward where a sleek, gray cat stood behind the receptionist guest strictly dedicated to the hotel side of the casino.

“Ah… a room?” Fenton squawked nervously, and Gladstone could feel his previous merry mood slipping away. Had the duck forgotten why he’d been approached in the first place?

“Yeah, a room… unless you were planning on just cutting and running with the money?” Gladstone didn’t mean for his words to come out so accusatory. He’d been going for a light-hearted, jokey vibe, but… it had happened before. More times than was worth counting. Would Fenton really do him like that, though? They’d practically been all over each other during their craps games, and he’d thought if anything, the duck would be raring to—

“What?! No, no, no, I wouldn’t… Yes, a room. For us. Y-you go get us one and I’ll cash these chips and wait for you _right there,_ ” Fenton gestured wildly to the receptionist desk where the tanuki was stationed, momentarily forgetting his cargo as he slung chips everywhere.

Gladstone chuckled, and felt a weight lift off his chest he hadn’t realized was there. Had he really, sincerely, been worried that Fenton was going to run out on him? Sure, it had happened before, but he had never cared about his partners enough to associate any kind of negative emotion with it. Frowns and furrowed brows caused wrinkles, after all.

“You do that, try not to get swindled,” he said with a lazy wave as he turned to walk toward the hotel’s reception desk.

The male cat was in a stiff looking suit, and nice as it may have looked against that sleek gray fur, Gladstone didn’t envy him. He preferred his clothes loose and showing off just enough that he had to remind people that _his eyes were up here._

“So, my feline friend,” Gladstone rested an elbow against the counter and leaned forward. “You got any free rooms for the night?” Free room could mean vacant, or it could mean without a dime spent. And the greatest mystery the half-goose got out of life was which way lady luck would interpret his words.

“Free, why that’s—” The receptionist abruptly cut himself off as he checked the monitor on the desk, his eyes widening at whatever he read. “Yes! With the recent robot attack, we’ve had several guests not show up for their booking at all. There are several empty penthouse suites that have already been paid for, and while I _usually_ wouldn’t do this… My word, it has been a _day._ You are one lucky duck, we all are, considering what happened the last time the city was attacked by a robot.” The cat then opened a drawer and pulled out room key, tossing it to the half-goose.

“Room seven thousand, seven hundred seventy-seven. Please, enjoy your stay, Mr…”

“Gander, Gladstone Gander,” he responded while walking away, a slight smirk on his face as he pocketed the key into his blazer.

He arrived at the casino counter just in time to see Fenton jump as he shouted, “One hundred million yen!”

“Ninety, actually,” Gladstone corrected, coming to a stop beside the duck and placing a hand over the man’s shoulder to prevent any more leaping action. “Ten of those millions belongs to the casino, credit, you see.”

“Credit…,” Fenton parroted. His eyes widened in realization and if Gladstone didn’t have a firm grip on his shoulder, he would have jumped again. “You didn’t have the money we were betting with?!”

“Never do, Fentaroo,” Gladstone said with a clap on the other duck’s shoulder.

“Oh, ludicrous ludology, I never would have bet if I’d known…,” Fenton fretted, and Gladstone huffed in amusement.

He leaned his head forward to murmur directly into the duck’s avian ear, “Wouldn’t you, though?”

Fenton’s breath hitched and Gladstone chuckled, not pulling away and smirking as he saw a faint blush bloom that went all the way down to the smaller duck’s shoulders. He wanted to nip at the nape, just to see if it was warm.

They’d both enjoyed whipping off the haughty grins of their competition, their flirtatious back and forth banter, Fenton growing bolder the more wins they accumulated. Somewhere hidden underneath that unsure, nerdy scientist, was a confident, amorous duck who had the practically mystic ability to make Gladstone Gander of all ducks impatient.

And he couldn’t wait to bring that duck out in a more… private setting. Repeatedly, if possible.

Then a cough from the receptionist brought him back to reality, and there really was nothing he could do to stop the look of ire he directed her way in response to the interruption.

“S-sir’s, my colleague has just informed me that you’ll be staying in one of the penthouse suites? We’ll be more than happy to hold your winnings overnight if you’d like.”

“Thank you very much!” Fenton answered before Gladstone could. “We really appreciate— did you say _penthouse?_ ”

Gladstone answered for her by way of using his grip on Fenton’s shoulder to guide them both toward the elevators at the far end of the casino.

“That’s right, Fentster. A penthouse with all the commodities; beautiful view of the city, spacious bathroom, a king-sized bed.” Gladstone spoke and walked quickly, his arousal finally getting the better of him as he came to a stop in front of the elevator door. He pressed the button for the seventieth floor and tapped his foot as he waited for it to come down from the fiftieth. When the elevator finally dinged and the doors opened, Gladstone pushed Fenton through them. He stepped in right after and looked behind him to see the doors close.

Once they had lifted past the first floor, Gladstone turned his attention to the duck currently leaning against the back wall of the elevator, who was fiddling and twisting his hair around a finger.

“Fentoni,” Gladstone called the man’s name, then with deliberate slowness, stepped forward until the fluff of his chest was brushing against a cheap purple tie.

“Y-yes, oh!” Fenton snapped his beak shut and swallowed as Gladstone gripped one of his wrists and rose it above his head, pressing it into the cool elevator wall. His grip was firm, but he’d felt Fenton’s muscles, he knew the other duck could break the hold if he wanted.

He slid a knee in-between Fenton’s, lifting it only to stop right before it connected with tan bottom feathers. He used his free hand to cup the side of Fenton’s head, sliding a thumb over a soft cheek as he asked “you’ve never done this before, right?”

Hooking up with a stranger. A man. Sex.

“N-no,” Fenton gulped then licked his bottom bill. Gladstone followed the thin appendage’s movement with a wicked grin. What, was the cute little duck expecting something? A kiss? Well, Gladstone lived to disappoint.

“You’re looking a little hot under the collar there, Fenton,” he leered as he pushed the tips of his fingers into tan feathers to touch the smooth skin beneath, tracing down from the bird’s cheek, to the front of his neck, to his collar, until finally his index finger was hooking around a purple neck tie.

“Y-you said my name ri—” The bird choked on his words when Gladstone gave his tie an experimental tug. The knot didn’t come apart, but it loosened.

Which was all he needed it to do as the elevator opened on their floor and he used it as a makeshift collar to drag Fenton out by. The other duck squawked and followed after him, not that he had much choice, as they hurriedly made their way down the hallway to their room. He didn’t turn to look at the duck behind him, curious as he was to see the man’s expression. Was it excited, nervous, aroused, all three and more? He didn’t turn to look because there was a chance he’d stop them right then and there; scarring Fenton with a level of depravity he didn’t think the duck was ready for. Something Gladstone felt all too gleeful at the prospect of.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked in a hallway.

He did stop them once they finally came to their suite, fumbling a few times too many with the room key as he opened the door. He paused before bringing them both inside though, because darn him and his inconsistent conscious; he had to give the duck one more out.

“You’re sure about this? Cause once we—”

Fenton shoved him through the door.

He stumbled into the lavish suite; with its tall one-sided window for a fourth wall, soft red carpet, and just a big of bed as he’d been hoping. The city sparkled below them, the lights adding a dim luminescence to an otherwise dark room. A beautiful sight, one Gladstone was used to seeing, and one his partner would unfortunately not have the time to enjoy. But that was okay; Fenton would be getting the best view in the room, flat on his back.

The door slammed loudly behind them and before he had a chance to get his bearings, he was being pushed up against a wall, his wrist slammed painfully against it in a harsher grip than he thinks the other duck realized.

“I want a kiss,” Fenton demanded and my, my, was that a glare? Adorable.

The shock of the other duck’s bold action wore of quick and Gladstone was completely unruffled by the sudden rough treatment, even if he preferred to be the one _delivering_ said rough treatment. There was not even one hair out of place.

“Oh, is that all you want?” Gladstone teased, his eyes dark with want.

A want that was reflected back at him as Fenton looked close to growling at him. What, had he expected Gladstone to shove him onto the mattress and just go at it without having a little bit of fun first? Taunting nerds and self-righteous types into admitting things they never would underneath any other bird was where half his enjoyment came from.

And while he hadn’t _expected_ to make Fenton beg for it, now that the option was on the table…

“I _want…_.” But instead of admitting to exactly what he wanted Gladstone to do to him, the duck trailed off and Gladstone smirked.

The space between them, what little there was, smoldered with carnal intent. Gladstone was burning up in his clothes and he knew Fenton was the same. The sweet doctor had already crossed off so many firsts tonight: drank, gambled, gone off with a stranger. Now, if only Gladstone could get him to say the word **fuck.**

“You have to say it, Fenton. How else will I know what you want? Of course, this is a nice room. Big TV, we could always just…” His sentence teetered off threateningly, but it was a bluff he was prepared to be called out on. There was no way Gladstone wasn’t going to end his night anywhere but with Fenton underneath him, legs spread and—

“I want to… to _copulate_ with—”

Good enough. Gladstone surged forward, silencing him with the kiss Fenton had been so desperately wanting. There was a slight bend where their beaks connected as he pressed forward, the suddenness of it causing Fenton to weaken his hold over Gladstone’s wrist, allowing the half-goose to reverse their positions in a sharp twist of motion. He pressed himself bodily against Fenton, easily controlling a kiss the other duck didn’t know how to return.

But Fenton was trying, and the eagerness of the other’s beak more than made up for his inexperience. Their warm breath mingled and Gladstone licked the duck’s upper bill, encouraging without words for the other to join his play. He rolled his hips forward in a poor imitation of what was to come, their feathers sliding between each other and waists connecting briefly in repeated, gentle thrusts. He felt his member begin to poke past its hidden folds and knew it was time to take things to the bed.

He wrapped an arm around Fenton’s waist and without breaking the kiss, pulled the smaller duck flush against his body, while turning them so it was Fenton’s back toward the bed as they stepped toward it. He released Fenton’s wrist and used his now free hand to rub the other’s back, dragging that cheap shirt up and down with it. He released the slim waist when Fenton’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he pushed the duck onto it none too gently. Fenton landed with a small bounce and looked up at Gladstone through half-lidded eyes, his mouth hanging open and tongue poking out as he panted.

The sight alone was enough to make Gladstone’s breath heavy.

He placed a knee on the bed to the side of Fenton and leaned forward to continue their kiss. And apparently that big nerd brain made the doctor a fast learner as he nipped and licked at Gladstone’s lower bill to coax a deeper kiss out of the half-goose. Which he delighted in denying the duck as he pulled his head back, creating enough room to loosen Fenton’s tie and pull it around his beak and over his head, tossing it to the floor like the cheap garbage that it was.

“Been wanting to do that all night,” he husked while peeling himself out of his blazer and throwing it over where Fenton’s tie had landed.

“Yeah?” Fenton breathed, and then he was crawling backwards on the bed; Gladstone moving with him as though they were connected by some magnetic force.

“Yeah,” he clicked his tongue against his upper bill. “Purple is your color, but you’ve _got_ to buy a better tie.”

Fenton looked ready to argue, but instead those dark brown eyes turned mischievous and a smirk that looked more enticing than it should spread across the duck’s bill.

“Yeah, well… I’ve been wanting to do _this_ all night.” A tan, greedy hand thrust forward and buried itself in Gladstone’s chest fluff. Fingers threaded through the silky white feathers, clenching and pulling, forcing Gladstone to groan deep in the back of his throat.

So, that’s what he meant by spice. Alright.

“Let’s get you out of this.” Gladstone then began unbuttoning Fenton’s shirt with an ease that only came from experience. The hand on his chest moved as Fenton began doing the same, but at much slower pace as his hands trembled slightly.

“Nervous?” he asked as he removed Fenton’s shirt from his shoulders, turning the action into a caress as he slid his hands down lithely muscled arms.

“N-no,” Fenton responded, finally undoing the last button on Gladstone’s green vest only to reveal his yellow shirt underneath.

The groan of frustration at the sight of even more clothes was enough to make Gladstone chuckle and take pity on his inexperienced partner. He placed his own hands over Fenton’s and without a word, guided them over the buttons of Gladstone’s shirt. With a shaky breath, Fenton allowed himself to be guided, the trembling of his hands only stopping once Gladstone’s final button had been popped.

Gladstone released his hold over Fenton’s hands and shook his shirt off, kicking it to the floor when it landed behind him on the bed.

And then there they were, both bare with nothing but the dimmed city lights to cover them.

“Like what you see?” Gladstone said, unabashedly asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Of course, Fenton liked what he saw, who didn’t?

“Y-yeah,” Fenton said with a slight nod, his head ducked low as he looked up at Gladstone, what could only be described as lust burning deep in the back of those brown eyes.

“Do… do you like what you see?” Fenton asked, his tone equal parts desirous and hesitant.

It was cute, but got him thinking— Had actually no one ever hit on the doctor, or had simply no one been as brazen about it as Gladstone for the man to notice? Either way, the duck didn’t seem used to genuine interest or compliments, didn’t seem as confident in Gladstone’s want for him as he ought to be. Like clothes, hotels, cars; Gladstone only accepted the best. And to get that through to Fenton’s nerdy little head, he would just have to describe, in excruciatingly lurid detail, what it was that attracted Gladstone to him.

“Yeah, I like what I see,” Gladstone answered as he pushed one of Fenton’s shoulders so that the bird was laying flat on the bed. “Gorgeous tan feathers, a soft, lush tail, sultry brown eyes, sweet with a little spice...” The more he spoke, the darker Fenton’s face got, the aroused flush seeping all the way down to his shoulders. Reminding Gladstone of their gambling venture, and what a good time to be reminded of.

“Yeah, I like what I see a lot.” Gladstone then leaned forward to seal his words with a kiss, deciding he had made the poor duck wait long enough. The kiss was softer than the one they’d shared while pressed against the wall, but it slowly picked up steam. His hands roved over Fenton’s lithe frame, sliding through soft feathers and tracing over what felt like scars underneath. He wanted to get to know the bird’s body before he took it apart. And Fenton seemed to have a similar idea as he much less gracefully touched and plucked at Gladstone’s body. He welcomed the inexperienced touches, though, because they were for _him_. Not for his family relation, or his wealth, or his _luck_ —

Something hard poked against his stomach and Gladstone looked down with a grin, seeing both their members out and leaking between them. His was bigger of course, and had more of a curve to it, but Fenton’s looked almost too good to waste. Almost.

He reached down to grip Fenton’s stiff erection, the duck buking at contact and twisting his hands into the comforter below. At the same time, he leaned off to the side to open the bedside drawer and pull out; yup, lucky-duck lube and condoms. Not that Gladstone ever bothered with the latter. With his luck; why would he entertain an unnecessary inconvenience?

And like with all his partners, he was lucky Fenton was too far gone to notice.

He pumped the lube over both the hand that held Fenton’s erection and his own stiff member, shifting his grip to hold both of them loosely in one hand. He couldn’t completely close his hand, but he didn’t need to; he could pump them just fine like this, the lube allowing his hand to glide easily up and down. Fenton moaned and threw his head back, pushing his hips up into Gladstone’s touch, and he was content to let the duck just lay there and enjoy the rub off.

But Fenton, apparently unable to just lay down and enjoy himself, asked with a strained voice, “Is there any… any, ah-Ah! Anything you w-want me to do?”

Gladstone huffed fondly in response. “Yeah, _relax_ ,” he said, letting go of their members to slide his now lube soaked hand lower on Fenton’s body.

“Let Ol’ Gladdie here take care of you.” He’d never had an unsatisfied partner before, yet still Gladstone was feeling the unusual need to perform his best tonight.

Fenton was just some cute nerd he’d picked up, but… he was a _fun_ , cute nerd. And if by some luck they met again, Gladstone wouldn’t mind sharing another good time with him.

He circled a finger around Fenton’s small entrance and felt it already slick with want. That was the great thing about sleeping with other birds; self-lubricating.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said before pressing the finger inside.

A tight wet heat encircled him and Gladstone bit back a moan. Heat pooling in his gut at just _imagining_ what it would be like inside. It had been weeks since his last hook up. Far too long for such a hedonistic bird as he.

He pumped the finger in and out, giving the other bird time to get used to the intrusion. One of Fenton’s legs kicked at his side, in what looked like an involuntary reaction. And the man was taking deliberate slow breaths, his eyes closed and beak partially open. But it wasn’t a no, or a stop, so Gladstone pressed on. Literally. He pushed a second finger inside, scissoring and stretching the hole, preparing it for something much larger. He applied pointed pressure on Fenton’s inner walls, searching for the spot that would make him—

“Ah!”

—That. 

Gladstone sat back as he increased his pace, his free hand going to Fenton’s leaking erection to pump him to completion. A virgin needed to cum at least once before the real fun started, or else it’d be over before it ever began.

Fenton twisted his head from side to side, eyes blown open as he cried out. His legs both stiff and shaking at his sides, the stimulation likely more than he had ever received before. The duck was becoming a pliant, puddle of pleasure beneath him and Gladstone relished the sight.

“Yeah,” he puffed out. “You like that?

“Mm… ye… ye —Glad… Glad I’m going to!” Fenton slammed his head back onto the pillows behind him and went stiff as spurts of thick cum spilled out all over his stomach. Gladstone pumped the duck through his release, and only let go of Fenton’s spent cock once the last drop had spilled.

He pulled his fingers out of Fenton’s hole and wiped them off on the comforter, while also bringing the hand that had been pumping the other bird to his bill and licking off what little cum had dripped onto his fingers.

Fenton eyed him in a daze, seemingly light headed after his first non-self-received orgasm.

“Oh, golly that… that was…” Fenton smacked his bill together without finishing the thought, that big brain apparently lost for words.

“Just the beginning, babe,” Gladstone finished for him.

He stroked his own member and Fenton sat up just enough to watch him, and the thirst he saw in the other bird’s gaze almost had him offering Fenton a drink, but….

“… Later,” he told himself. After they’d had a proper round, he’d give the scientist free reign to _experiment_.

The words hadn’t been directing at the other bird, but Fenton still nodded, understanding what Gladstone meant as the half-goose slicked up his own member.

Some birds said a virgin’s first time was always painful. That they had to do it once before they started to enjoy themselves. That a little blood was inevitable and that a virgin should just get it over with.

Gladstone Gander wasn’t just some bird.

“You ready,” he said, lining up his member with Fenton’s wet, dripping hole.

Fenton licked his bill, nodding, “Y-yeah, I wa… yeah.”

Gladstone considered stopping there and making Fenton beg for it. Say exactly what _it_ was. As he knew the bird would with enough teasing. If Fenton had been willing to demand, _plead_ for a kiss then his pride couldn’t be so strong as to stop him from begging for sex. But again, later, Gladstone told himself. There were several more hours before morning, after all. 

What was that Fenton had said back at the bar? About not being able to stay out late?

Gladstone lifted one of Fenton’s thin legs over his shoulder, holding it there as he thrust in all at once, throwing his head back and biting his bottom bill as it was… **fuck** , more than he was expecting. Tight, warm, wet; Fenton pressed down and around him, making Gladstone’s hips shake. He bent forward and clutched the leg over his shoulder harder, needing something to ground him. Fenton’s hands flew up to clamp down around his bill, silencing any sounds that might try to escape.

That just wouldn’t do.

“No, that’s good. Let it- _fwah-hah_ … Let it out.” He grit his teeth to get a hold of himself. Fenton was the virgin here, not him. He wasn’t going to blow it so soon after they’d started. “Don’t hold back,” he said after regaining control of his urge to just _thrust_ and not stop.

Fenton nodded his head and released his beak, the bird instead reaching back to grip the pillows behind his head. Not needing any verbal confirmation that the bird was ready for more, Gladstone slowly pulled his member out so just the tip remained inside, before slowly rolling his hips forward. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of pleasure tingling through him, the feathers on the back of his neck standing, his mind heady with lust for the bird beneath him.

With no complaint from Fenton, he switched his grip so that he had both of Fenton’s legs held at his side, their groins slapping together and feathers falling to the bed from the force as Gladstone increased his pace.

“Es demasiado.” Fenton lifted his chest up off the bed, his eyes dilated in pleasure as he searched for some inner resolve that wasn’t coming. “Pero… pero yo…” Gladstone didn’t have a clue what Fenton was saying, hadn’t even realized the bird spoke Spanish. But he didn’t need to, that he was even speaking it was all Gladstone needed to know he was blowing the inadvertently lewd duck’s mind.

“Más fuerte, más fuerte, _por favor_ ,” Fenton cried out, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Gladstone let out a whoof of air, releasing one of Fenton’s legs long enough to run a hand through his sweat soaked hair before grabbing it again. His natural curls fell in front of his face as the gel he used to hold them down combined with his sweat in a gross, sticky mess.

“No comprendo, amigo,” Gladstone responded, the Spanish phrase one of the few he knew.

Fenton snapped a heated glare at him, which only served to send a rush of thrill through him. The glare was hot with hunger, it was primal, it was feisty and it was—

“ _Harder!_ ”

Gladstone didn’t need telling twice.

He lifted Fenton’s legs higher, bending the bird back on himself as he rose up on his feet to stay inside. Gladstone panted as he slammed into the other bird hard enough to bruise both their pelvises. He didn’t relent, even as Fenton choked on his own moans and tore at the pillows like he could shred them. His grip on Fenton’s legs was hard enough to bruise, and it was nasty of him, but he looked forward to watching Fenton walk away with them.

The bird beneath him moaned with abandon as Gladstone fucked him into the mattress. And the half-goose couldn’t stop his own heated moans from slipping past his bill and filling more warmth into an already sweltering room. Tears spilled down Fenton’s cheeks, the bird muttering incoherently in Spanish, his mouth seemingly unable to close. And was that drool? _Fuuuck_ , that was…

“So vulgar, Doctor Crackshell.” He’d said it as a taunting jab, meant to be a juxtaposition of Fenton’s serious profession and his lascivious behavior.

The full body shiver he got in response had been an unexpected, wholly welcome surprise. 

“That’s right, _Doctor_. You **earned** this, right?” Gladstone grunted as he thrust deep into the other duck, a wet squelching sound following his every move. It was a reminder of words he was never meant to hear. Which made Fenton’s reaction, his dark eyes rolling back in his head, all the more brilliant.

“Gladdie!” Fenton screamed as he came, and Gladstone was soon to follow. The walls around his member convulsing, tightening around him, squeezing every last drop of cum out of him. He didn’t immediately pull out, reluctant to leave the warmth of the bird beneath him. Even if it wouldn’t be for long. Gladstone had a great refractory time.

“Not bad for a first time, ey Fentoni?” Gladstone laughed as he slid his spent, limp member out. Cum leaked out of Fenton’s twitching hole and the half-goose took a moment to admire his craft.

“Sorry about that,” he really wasn’t. “But hey; makes the next round easier…” He trailed off, noticing the gabber full bird wasn’t responding to anything he was saying. The duck hadn’t so much as moved after Gladstone had released his legs and pulled out. He frowned, thinking maybe the other hadn’t liked… but of course he had… It was during his contemplation that Gladstone finally noticed why the doctor hadn’t said anything after cumming.

Closed eyes, soft breathing; Fenton was out cold.

He snapped his fingers in front of the duck’s face and nothing. Not even a flinch.

Annoyance spread clear across his face, the half-goose not bothering to hide his genuine reaction now that he was _alone_. Really, he had been looking forward to a few more rounds. Once Fenton got used to sex, he’d expected the man would want to be a more active participant. Which would have been great for Gladstone; meant less effort on his part. But now it was over, which meant it was officially time for him to…

A soft, nearly inaudible snore rose from the sleeping duck on the bed Gladstone turned his attention back to the man. Who he saw was twisted onto his side, hands tucked together and underneath his head, hair all a tussle as the tiniest bit of drool fell from his slightly parted beak.

Aw, phooey.

He sighed and blew a sweaty lock of hair out of his eye. He could afford Fenton just a little more sleep, however long it took Gladstone to shower and dry off, at least. Then the nerd was out, he’d let the guy take all of their winnings and not feel a shred of guilt for kicking him out right after a fuck. When did he ever?

Gladstone took his time in the shower, took even longer drying off once he was out. He wouldn’t want to damage his hair by haphazard towel scrubs, after all. Finished with cleaning the night’s filth off, he wrapped himself in the green robe that had been conveniently hung on the shower door. Hair still damp, he stepped out and back into the room where he saw Fenton still sleeping soundly on the bed. Shaking his head, smile softer than he realized, Gladstone decided he would let the duck sleep his fill instead of immediately kicking him out like he would with all his one-night stands... At least until he had sent and received their mussed clothes from the casino’s in house, rapid return dry cleaning service. The half-goose didn’t know what a scientist did that could physically wear him out to the point that one round of sex knocked him out. And he didn’t empathize with someone who made such bad life decisions, but he could sympathize. Maybe. Just a little.

For tonight only.

He collected his clothes and Fenton’s ugly tie, then searched around the side of the bed where he had tossed the duck’s shirt. It didn’t take him long to find it as he leaned down to pick it up, his hand hovered midair as he saw something else. A phone? When had that gotten there? Was it Fenton’s? He hadn’t noticed the duck was carrying one, but who in this day and age wasn’t? Eh, it must have fallen out of Fenton’s back shirt pocket and to the floor either when he’d first pushed the man onto the bed or when he’d tossed the shirt. He shrugged, not really caring and picked up the phone.

And wow, ten missed calls? Somebody was loved. And really, in spite of his past actions over the course of the night; Gladstone was no snooper. So, when he stood back up, to pick up Fenton’s clothes, to fold and send them away to be cleaned along with his own, he really didn’t mean to see the caller id as it flashed across the phone’s screen. But he did, and the name he saw had Fenton’s cheap tie slipping from his hand and landing right back on the floor, eyes wide and jaw slack as he read and reread the name to make sure it wasn’t the exhaustion blurring his vision, but no the name repeated multiple times as a missed caller really was none other than—

Hubert “Huey” Duck.

* * *

Fenton’s entire body ached with an unfamiliar soreness. His thighs hurt, his hips felt bruised, and the duck dare not move lest his tail brush against something, agitating the sharp singing sensation emanating right below it.

The bed was comfortable, at least. The softest he had ever laid on, in fact. The comforter covering him warm and thick. He didn’t want to move, but it was always hard to get up in the morning ever since he’d donned the Gizmoduck armor. Late nights saving the city, early mornings fetching Doctor Gearloose his six am coffee. Oh, the life of a lowly intern… of an… Oh.

Golly gee willikers! Fenton’s eyes snapped open and he sat right up in the bed, the comforter falling around his waste and leaving his chest completely bare. He blinked at the sight around him. Fancy hotel room, big bed, lots of space; it was nicer than any place he’d ever been outside of McDuck Manor.

Oh, he’d really gone and done it.

When Doctor Gearloose had given him the night off to celebrate, promising to watch the kids and keep Inspector Tezuka occupied; he didn’t think that this was what his boss had meant. Fenton had just wanted to go to a bar and drink, just like he’d seen in some of his favorite Japanese movies. Maybe even go back to their and shared motel room with his tie fastened around his forehead in a classically comedic fashion. Get another hug in before the _just for today_ policy ended.

And then he’d met Gladstone Gander.

Speaking of; Fenton turned to look beside him and saw the bed space empty. He frowned, brows furrowing. Had… had the duck left? Just like that? The thought stung in a way Fenton wasn’t expecting and he clutched at his chest feathers as though it would stop the pain. It really wasn’t that surprising, or it shouldn’t be; waking up alone after a one-night stand was also in some of his favorite Japanese movies.

Before his mood could become too sullen, the scent of smoke blew past his bill and the edges of Fenton’s bill curled in disgust at the smell of it. Bleh, cigarettes. But who would be smoking in a nice hotel room like this? Why, the only birds in the room had been himself and…

Fenton swiftly turned to look in the direction the smoke had blown from and instantly had his breath snatched away by what he saw.

Gladstone in a dark green robe, leaning one shoulder against the glass wall of their room. His face was reflected in the glass as he stared out it. The duck’s white hair no longer tightly packed, but loose and curling-in at the front. He was smoking a cigarette, languidly bringing the thin stick to his beak to inhale, then tilting his head up slightly as he blew smoke into the air. He looked older and softer all at the same time. And there must have been something wrong with the glass, because Fenton swore, he saw bags under Gladstone’s eyes.

But like always, his mouth worked faster than his brain, and out of all the questions he had: how long had he been sleeping, where did he get a cigarette, was it good? He said the absolute worst thing as he blurted—

“You know smoking kills.” And once he started, he couldn’t stop. “It’s the number one risk factor for lung cancer and lung disease, in fact it’s been linked to ninety percent of all lung cancer deaths. It also causes something c-called…” Fenton’s next words died in his throat when Gladstone turned his head from the window to face him; his heart dropping into his stomach as he felt the inexplicable impulse to run.

Because the look Gladstone gave Fenton as he turned to face him was unlike any of the ones he’d seen from the man. His brows were sharp and the city lights made his green eyes glint with the threat of danger. Smoke curled around his impossibly good-looking face adding an air of menace that had Fenton close to saying blathering blatherskite out of sheer protective instinct.

But the look was gone as quickly as it’d come, to the point Fenton wasn’t sure he’d imagined it or not. A bright smile was spread across the other duck’s bill and once again he couldn’t help but shift his gaze lower, to the tuft of fluff that was poking out of the green robe Gladstone wore. He blinked and forced himself to look up at the duck’s face, and yeah, the smile was charming as it’d ever been. Maybe he really had imagined that first look. He was still tired, hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been delirious.

“Oh, I don’t know…” the duck said as he put his cigarette out by pressing it against the glass, flicking the butt onto the red carpet. And Fenton was about to scold him for littering when, “I think getting cancer might be one of the best things I could do for the world.”

Fenton’s beak hung open as he stared at the other bird in wide-eyed shock. Had he really just? That sounded troubling close to a… Gladstone Gander couldn’t _possibly_ be suicidal, could he? The duck had approached him, and he’d just been so charming, so confident, so interested in him that Fenton couldn’t help but be swept away by the mystique of it all.

Was the gambling and sex just a cry for help? They always were in the telenovelas his M’Ma watched—

“Because of my luck.” Gladstone laughed and ran a hand through his loose, curly locks, and Fenton’s hand twitched with the effort not to touch.

“Ha, see, if I got it, there’d be a cure within days, maybe even hours.” The duck said as way of explanation, and Fenton wanted to believe him, really, he did. But…

There was just something off about the duck. He was still handsome, his smile still charming, even if Fenton could see it was strained.

“I cleaned you up best I could, by the way, but you were a _mess_ , Fentaroni. Might want a shower before heading back to… wherever you’re from.” Gladstone waved a hand at him and it was then that Fenton noticed on the table next to the bed, were his clothes neatly folded and looking cleaner than when he’d met the man.

That was nice, thoughtful even. He hadn’t seen something like that in one of his movies.

“You’re right, I should- yeah, shower.” Fenton smiled awkwardly as he picked his clothes up off the table, stepped out of the bed, and hurried into the bathroom.

Fenton didn’t give himself time to enjoy the shower, not its grand size or multiple settings, and not the fancy products lined up inside either. Nice as it would have been, what with his body still so sore from the day’s activities as well as the night’s. He had been worn out before ever entering the casino, but had too stubborn to let it show. And it had taken every bit of resolve he had not to flinch whenever Gladstone’s hands had brushed against the myriad of bruises he’d gotten from his fight with BOYD.

Oh, but that was thinking and he needed to stop. He didn’t want to think about fights in the city and he didn’t want to think about what he was washing out of him as he unhooked the shower head and brought it behind his tail. Nope, no thinking here. And in less the five minutes he was out.

He dried off just as quickly, leaving his hair a more tangled mess than usual. He threw on his shirt, buttoned it, then roped his tie around the collar, not bothering to tie it. Then, Fenton stepped out of the bathroom only to be frozen on the spot, again, at what he saw awaiting him.

Gladstone had moved from the window to the bed, sitting on its edge with his robe spread precariously open; chest floof on full display.

Fenton swallowed as he stared. Which left him wholly unprepared for the duck’s next words.

“So… How do you know Huey?”

Fenton jolted and without thinking, rattled off the memorized response Dr. Gearloose had made him learn before they’d flown to Tokyolk.

“He’s an intern at the same lab I work at, we’re on a field trip, we…” He shook his head, brain catching up with his mouth as he shouted, “Hey, how do _you k_ now Huey? How do you know I know Huey?!”

Gladstone just quirked a brow at him.

“Your phone, lotta missed calls,” Gladstone held out the device and Fenton grabbed it, fretting at the number he saw. Fifteen missed calls, fourteen from Huey and one from Dr. Gearloose. He checked the time and almost had a heart attack; three am!

“… That still doesn’t explain how you know Huey,” Fenton said, a familiar paranoia starting to creep up the base of his spine. What if Gladstone had researched him? What if meeting him at the bar hadn’t been a coincidence. Could the entire night have been a ploy to get at Gizmoduck? It had happened before, but… He had thought… He had really hoped…

“Oh, you know, it’s a big family. I’m just one of the lucky ducks who’s a part of it.” Gladstone shrugged off the admittance like it was some everyday thing.

Relief as the answer was, Fenton’s mouth once again moved faster than was good for him as he said “Really? They’ve never mentioned you.”

“Mm, no. I don’t suppose they would,” Gladstone murmured derisively, almost like it was just to himself.

“What?” Fenton’s brows furrowed, understanding that he had said something wrong, just not _what._

“Nothing, I uh… How’s his uncle?” The hesitance in Gladstone’s voice and the way he looked away when asking made the duck appear, dare Fenton say; cute? Oh, but he doubted the other would very much appreciate that description. Handsome, suave, dapper; those were the words used to describe Gladstone Gander.

And Fenton had only known him for a night. Still, if the duck really was family to his employer, he could try to answer his questions best he could. Though, why he wouldn’t know how his own family was doing was yet another one of the many mysteries of Gladstone Gander.

“Mr. McDuck? Oh, he’s great he—”

Gladstone cut him off sounding both exasperated and tired. “Mr— _No_ , I mean how… how’s Donald?”

Donald? Who was… Oh, Donald! Donald Duck!

“You mean Huey’s guardian? I… I’m not sure. I’ve never officially met him, I think. I mean, I’ve wanted to meet all of Mr. McDuck’s family, of course. B-but, you know, busy all the time and… well, I never really _see_ him around town.” Not as Gizmoduck and not as Crackshell-Cabrera.

“That recluse…” Gladstone huffed affectionately, and Fenton felt his heart twinge from an unfamiliar emotion, only knowing it felt as green as the other duck’s robe.

“Y-yeah…” Fenton trailed off, normally never without words but suddenly at a loss of what to say.

The atmosphere around them had become so stilted, like they were only going through to motions of a conversation. He wanted to sit on the bed beside Gladstone and thank him for letting him sleep, he wanted to ask why he did it. But most of all, he wanted to ask why, out of all the beautiful people in Tokyolk, it was Fenton the duck had picked up? Outside of the Gizmoduck suit, without knowing who he worked for, what could possibly attract a duck like Gladstone to a duck like him?

But it seemed he would never get that chance as Gladstone grunted and pushed himself off the bed. He stood in front of the shorter duck and made him feel like they were meeting for the first time all over again with the way his stomach fluttered. The other duck took hold of his hand, lifted it to his bill, and placed a soft kiss over his knuckles.

Gladstone pulled back with a slight smile spread across his bill, those enchanting green eyes half-lidded as he said, “Well, Fentoni, it has been a _pleasure_.”

Yes, it had been… Oh, wow, had he really just thought that?

“But I think it’s time we parted ways. Best to end things while the memory is still fresh and fond.”

“Ah, right,” he said, taking his hand back. Gladstone was right, it was way past the time he was supposed to be back at the motel. They were leaving in only a few more hours and he would be the one flying them all back to Duckburg.

So, Fenton swallowed and nodded, clutching his phone to his chest as he walked out of the hotel suite.

“Um, bye?” He said it like it was a question, when he knew this was it. This was their final goodbye.

Buh-bye,” Gladstone said, his grin paper thin as he shut the door after Fenton, its clicking closed the sound of finality.

He looked back at the door, heart heavy and suddenly feeling cool now that he was no longer in Gladstone’s warm presence. He bit his bottom bill and shook his head, turning away and starting to walk down the long hallway. Fenton didn’t feel shame as he walked, it was nothing like he’d heard people describe parting ways after a one-night stand. He merely felt longing. It would have been nice to spend more time with the other duck and Fenton wished he had Dr. Gearloose’s time machine so he could go back and slap himself awake.

But it wasn’t meant to be, and it was officially tomorrow. He had to put the night behind him and focus on his future. Fenton had enjoyed his last and, if he was being honest, only night of fun as an intern. After keeping his waddle in a straight line for so long, it had been nice to cut loose. Something only an intern could afford to do, which Fenton wasn’t anymore. He would have to be in serious mode from here on out. No distractions; work and Gizmoduck… and his M’Ma, were his top and only priorities.

Reaching the end of the hallway, he pressed the button for the elevator and stepped in as the doors opened. They closed and staring dead straight at his reflection in the metallic doors, Fenton tenaciously declared, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life, unofficial Doctor Crackshell-Cabrera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to be a drabble, but the idea got away from me. First time writing smut so any feedback, constructive criticism or otherwise, is appreciated.


End file.
